


Healing Hearts

by i_penna



Category: Le Fantôme de l'Opéra | Phantom of the Opera & Related Fandoms, Love Never Dies - Lloyd Webber, Phantom of the Opera - Lloyd Webber
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-14
Updated: 2021-02-14
Packaged: 2021-03-14 06:13:50
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,406
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29413923
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/i_penna/pseuds/i_penna
Summary: A Valentine's Day party is being held at Phantasma for the employees. Our major characters set the stage...literally and old wounds are healed in the process.
Relationships: Christine Daaé/Erik | Phantom of the Opera
Comments: 4
Kudos: 8





	Healing Hearts

**Author's Note:**

> This one-shot is the Epilogue for my multi-chapter fic New Horizons (the fourth of an LND series). The story suggests much of what has gone on in the multi-chapter, hoping to inspire everyone to read the lot. It also stands on its own as a bit of fluff.

“Your favorite holiday.” Erik comes up behind Christine, wrapping his arms around her waist, kissing her on the back of her neck. The stage of the Phantasma theater is a riot of red hearts dressing not only the scrims, but as center pieces on the long buffet tables, in preparation for one of their holiday employee parties.

“I suppose I shall always be a romantic,” she replies, leaning back into his hug. “Pappa was a dreamer…I suppose I inherited it from him.” Pulling away, she turns around to kiss him lightly on the lips. “Do you like it?

“Well, it is red and I do like the color…”

“But?”

“It is red.”

“Too much,” she pouts.

“Adele will love it.”

“The white calla lilies will offset some of the red,” she says, “and once the food is in place, you will hardly notice the color.”

“I shall trust your judgment,” he says, looking around. “Where are the others? Why are you doing this alone?”

As if on cue, the Saint-Rien children rush in from backstage with several more baskets of small square boxes wrapped in white and pink paper with red cutout hearts as decoration.

“Maman, here are the gifts,” Emilie and Margaret call out. “We filled them with chocolates and then put on the hearts.”

“They are beautiful – you both did a wonderful job,” Christine says. “I am so proud of you. Now take them over to the other side of the stage – put them on the table by that big heart.”

Gustave and Henry pull up the rear, Joshua holding onto Henry’s hand…licking a red lollipop.

“Oh, Gustave, he is going to be so active,” Christine sighs.

“It is keeping him quiet now,” the eldest son replies. “I will think of something to settle him down if he becomes too much of a nuisance.”

“Promise?”

“Of course, besides Henry likes to play with him and will keep him occupied,” he says, “will you not?”

Henry nods, tousles the toddler’s curls. “Joshua will be the best boy tonight, will you not, my baby brother?”

Joshua rewards him with a big grin, his lips as red as the sucker he is nursing.

“Very well,” Christine sighs. “Go help the girls – make things look festive and inviting. Emilie is likely to just stack the boxes on the table then go off someplace to pretend she is performing.”

“Margaret will do a good job – she loves making things look pretty,” he says. “I will take her direction without complaint.”

“Thank you – I can always count on my boys.”

“Including me?” Erik says.

“Of course, although there are times when I think you and Joshua are twins born at different times.”

“So that is how you speak to your Valentine?” he says.

“You, sir, need to make yourself useful – all you have done so far is mock my red hearts and wonder where my helpers are.”

“And here they come – right on cue.”

Nadir and Adele arrive on the heels of the children. Nadir pushes a cart carrying trays of food to set up on the table. “Raoul and Meg are not far behind with another two carts,” he says. “I do not know why you cannot have these parties in the restaurant.”

“Because Chef would never allow all these wonderful red hearts be hung on the walls,” Adele laughs. “I love it.”

“As I knew you would,” Erik says, “You know very well the restaurant is booked with guests tonight. One would never suspect you were one of the park managers.”

“Is that what I am, I thought I was the influence the police and politicians manager – especially after the boat incident.”

“And a wonderful job you did with that,” Erik smirks, placing a platter on the first table.

“Over here, Erik.” Christine waves him toward her at the second table. “These are the appetizers. First table is for dinnerware and service. Then appetizers. Madame...Nadir, perhaps you could arrange the plates over there.”

Nodding, Nadir and Adele shift their attention to arranging the plates and silver. Movement from stage left catches Adeles’s eye. “Ah, here come Phillippe and Sorelli now.”

“And not far behind, the other pair of Chagnys – the infant-to-be making a Full Boat,” Erik mutters under his breath into Christine’s ear.

Christine’s brow wrinkles. “I do not understand.”

“Poker. Three of a kind and two of a kind are a Full House or Full Boat as river folk call the hand,” Erik explains. “Raoul, Meg, Baby and Phillippe with Veronique…makes sense considering the past several months with the barge Raoul brought into our lives.”

“Erik!” Covering her mouth to disguise both the exclamation and the accompanying giggle, she bends over to pick up one of the trays from the cart to place on the table.

“Sorelli actually makes him almost tolerable,” he says. “I admire her spunk, willing to help with the theater and dancers despite her own handicap.”

“Madame found her place in the same way at the opera house – although Sorelli is likely to be less severe and more charming – she quite charmed everyone at the Garnier,” Christine replies, continuing to unload the service platters on the table, checking under the silver cover to determine where to place them. “I am certain she will add her own touch to the programs.”

“A fresh eye is good, I agree,” he says, smiling as he turns to greet the Chagny family. “Greetings, Chagnys. Happy St. Valentine’s Day, although I wonder why he would be happy – cannot imagine martyrdom to be a joyful event.”

“He died because he married soldiers to their betrothed so they did not have to go to war,” Christine says. “He sacrificed his life for love.”

“Is that true?” Raoul asks.

“Yes,” Meg responds. “I remember hearing the story at catechism. The priest suggested the romantic notion we had about the day was almost sacrilegious.”

“Becoming a saint is no small matter,” Raoul says. “To give up one’s life for love.”

“There is more than one way to give up one’s life than by dying.” Erik and Raoul’s eyes lock.

“Enough,” Christine says, rolling her eyes. “We were all getting along. This is a party.”

“As you say, my dear,” Erik says. “If you will excuse me, I shall make the comte and comtesse welcome to their first experience at a Phantasma holiday event.”

Meg looks up at Raoul with a nod and a smile. Giving her a brief hug, they push their carts toward Christine.

“Maman told us to bring these to you,” Meg says.

“Let us move them over here,” Christine says to her, taking over Raoul’s cart. “Then we can then see what table they belong on. Raoul – help Nadir and Adele with the dishes, unless you want to join Gustave with the children.”

“Sorting dishes will be just fine,” he replies, “I suspect I will be better at that.”

“Yes, I suppose that is true.”

Patting her belly, grown rounder with their child, Meg says, “Soon you will have a child of your own.”

Avoiding Christine’s eyes, Raoul replies, “And a joyous day that will be. Until then I best help in an area where I can cause little damage. Except, of course, if I drop a plate or two.”

“Just be careful, love.”

He blows Meg a kiss and joins Adele and Nadir arranging plates.

“Comte. Comtesse,” Erik says, offering a slight bow. “Welcome to the Phantasma Valentine’s Day party.”

“I am afraid my wheelchair required Phillippe’s attention, so he was unable to bring in one of the food carts,” Sorelli says. “Holding up a stack of napkins from her lap, she offers them to Erik. “Yet, we were still able to make ourselves useful. Non?”

“Oui, Madame,” Erik responds, bowing to the dancer confined to her chair. He takes the linen from her, putting the stack on the table behind him.

“Phillippe, taking the linens to Madame Giry, will you? It appears she is setting the dining tables – I am certain she would appreciate your assistance.”

Raising his eyebrows, the comte’s eyes shift back and forth between his wife and the man some remember as the Opera Ghost. “Of course, my dear. As you wish.”

“Erik, push me to the pit, I want to get a better look at this theater of yours.”

“Of course, Madame.” Erik takes the handles of the chair and pushes her away from the tables toward the orchestra.

“Veronique, please. Or, Sorelli, if that suits you.” An elegant hand, bejeweled with a large emerald, waves the air, brushing aside the formality. “I trust some of what I read in the Fantome book was accurate about your relationship with Christine and my brother-in-law.”

Erik replies with a soft grunt.

“I am sorry we did not meet during those times,” she says with a smirk.

“I doubt you would have been impressed – I was a different man then.”

“Perhaps, perhaps not – your pranks were quite creative. Alas, we shall never know,” she says, glancing back at Raoul. “Old injuries will never heal if you continue to pick the scab. Let the scar remind you of the wound, but to reopen it will only cause infection. Phillippe is just now learning that about his brother as well – theirs is not an easy relationship either.” She holds up her hand again, this time indicating Erik stop where they are at center stage. “This is quite a large auditorium.”

“You expected otherwise?” Erik asks. “While not like the theaters in Manhattan, we do command fairly large audiences – five shows a day.”

Tossing a handful of napkins on the table Adele has completed setting, Phillippe says, “Excuse me – I must see to my wife.”

“Of course.” Watching him trot over to Erik and Sorelli, the elder prima ballerina shrugs. “Men,” she mutters, turning back to her work.

Slowing his pace to a walk, Phillippe comes up behind Erik and his wife, placing a kiss on her rouged cheek. “What are you two talking about with such intensity?”

“The size of the theater, darling. Are you jealous?” she smiles up at him. “Erik says they receive large audiences. It does remind me of the Garnier.”

“Does it?” Phillippe comments, looking out at the auditorium. “I do not see the similarities.”

“All you ever noticed at the Garnier were the girls dancing on stage, husband.” The tone dry, yet with an overtone of amusement. “I doubt Raoul notices the _similarities_ either. This room is actually the Garnier in miniature, is it not, Erik?”

Eying the disapproval of Phillippe’s frown, Eriks says, “Perhaps we should discuss the theater at a later time. You will want to know all the particulars for planning performances – Adele often makes use of the entrances and aisles in her designs. In any event, I believe Christine must be looking for me to help with the party preparations. I have been successful in avoiding my duty up until now.”

“Phillippe! Come here – I have been instructed to fold and place napkins since you abandoned your post,” Raoul calls. “Less breakage.”

“You are like a cat with nine lives,” Phillippe says, taking over control of Sorelli’s chair again, wheeling her back toward the buffet. “Thanks to the gods and Mr. Y, um, M. Saint-Rien.”

“I am happy he is still willing to allow me to be a part of the Pirate attraction project,” Raoul calls back over the chatter created by the arrival of the partygoers.

Erik’s eyes take in the activity on the stage, first moving to Christine giggling with Meg. Then chuckling at Gustave tapping out a rhythm on a table top, some of the staff’s children, newly arrived, hold their stomachs laughing as Henry imitates a little dance Joshua is performing to a song Margaret and Emilie are singing. Nadir and Adele argue over whether the plates or utensils should be the first items the guests would pick up.

He nods at his former rival and finds himself smiling. Whatever fate determined his love for Christine, also seems to want Raoul in his life. This even considering how, at one point, he was ready to interfere if Phillippe insisted Raoul return to Boston with him because of a new Chagny heir.

The entire boat incident found him wanting nothing more than the troublesome boy be as far from Phantasma and his family as possible. However, after much thought and long conversations with Christine, Nadir, Adele and Gustave…particularly Gustave, Raoul’s request to be able to stay on at Phantasma to work on the design for the new ride was approved.

After settling the issue with the Viking dragonhead boat…Alfred and a crew of men broke the vessel apart, the remnants left to the Steeplechase people to use as they wished. Phillippe strongly overruling Raoul keeping any part of the vessel. A legal burial of the remains found in the hold of the boat – man and pets – in a proper casket – was held in the Potter’s field, thanks to Nadir’s connections.

For better or worse, he determines, Raoul belongs here – part of his strange family as Nadir said. The presence of Sorelli enlivens everyone, so she, too, was added to the payroll – working with both Christine and Adele and, most likely Meg, to develop new programs for the dancers.

If the Norse gods had cast a spell over them, the hex was broken and, despite Phillippe’s continued distrust the only fly in the ointment, life was returning to normal.

Spring was in the air – in spirit, if not reality – rebirth and new beginnings. There was something oddly comforting being surrounded by the people from his life from a past he never thought he would look upon with any fondness. Yet, here they were celebrating Valentine’s Day together.

As if reading his thoughts, his Angel looks up from her fussing with the smorgasbord and smiles, brushing a loose curl from her brow.

Blessed. I am truly blessed if only for being the momentary recipient of that smile and the brightness of her eyes. “I am coming, my dear. What would you have me do?”

“As usual, you have succeeded in avoiding any of the preparations…Sorelli has always been an enchantress,” she comments, looking up at him from under her long lashes.

“Who?”

Laughing, she says, “Perhaps you would play something as our guests have their dinner.”

Taking her hand, he leads her to the piano. “Only if you sing for me.”


End file.
